


I'm your man

by bev_crusher1971



Category: Person of Interest (TV)
Genre: Dom!Harold, Dom/sub Undertones, Episode Related 2x05, First Time, Fluff, Light Dom/sub, M/M, Post-Coital Cuddling, Sex Toys, Sub!John
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-11-12
Updated: 2016-11-12
Packaged: 2018-08-30 13:56:23
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,620
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8535814
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bev_crusher1971/pseuds/bev_crusher1971
Summary: There are two closets in John's appartement. Harold decides to look into the second one, not expecting what he finds there.





	

**Author's Note:**

> This story took me a while to write for my muses decide to go on talking even though I decided that the story was finished. Thanks to [counselor69](https://archiveofourown.org/users/counselor69) who helped me to finish it.  
> Oh, and she also made the beta. *mwah* You're the best, sweetheart.

Maybe hiding in the closet hadn't been his brightest idea, Harold thought the moment the doors closed and he found himself standing in what appeared to be an arsenal of weapons. His heart began to beat faster when Bear sat down in front of the closet and whined softly. 

“He really likes that closet, huh?” asked their actual number, and Harold was glad for John's quick thinking. “His, uh, his treats are in there.”

He listened to their talk, froze for a second when John offered to take the next day off which meant for him, Harold, no John and no Bear the next day. He sighed in relief when Maxine finally made her way to the bathroom to 'take her contacts out'. 

He exited the closet, and hissed in an accusatory tone while he pointed at it, “When were you ever going to need all those?” Then he pulled himself together, and continued, “You shouldn't have brought her back here, Mr Reese. Even the best cover just goes so deep. The longer she stays, the more questions she'll have.”

Gently, John reached for his elbow and led him to the door. “Imagine how many questions she'll have if she comes out and sees you here,” he murmured huskily. 

Harold nodded. Yes, of course. Mr Reese was right. In the doorway he turned around one last time. “Did you get a good look at the men that were shooting at you?”

A wry grin appeard on John's face. “I tried. But they were shooting at me.” 

Before John could close the door in his face, Harold hastily said, “I'll get into the pub's security system and see what I can find.”

John simply nodded and the door was closed. The last thing he heard was a mumbled, “Just be glad you didn't hide in the other closet.”

Which was why a few days later, Harold stood once again in Mr Reese's appartement, this time in front of the omnious other closet. Bear was already curled up in his doggy bed, munching happily away on a rawhide bone and John was out, keeping an eye on their latest number, occasional murmuring something in his ear which Harold found very soothing. 

And yet.

And yet he found himself in the situation that he was about to add another task to his 'breaking and entering' list that was growing rapidly. “You there, Finch?”

Harold froze mid-movement as the soft tenor of John's voice came through his earpiece. 

“Yes, Mr Reese?” he asked, trying to control his voice. 

“She's still in the Café, I don't think she's the perpetrator.”

Silently taking a relieved breath, he answered, “Just stay where you are. We're still not sure about the role she's playing. The fact that she had three different passports in her bedroom drawer is something we can't ignore.”

John gave an affirmative grumble, and Harold quit the connection. Then he took a deep breath, reached out and opened the closet door.

Nothing could have prepared him for what he saw. With an irritated look he turned around to cast a quick glance at the other closet. Limping over, he opened the doors and saw the weapons he had already seen. Returning to the opposite closet, he stared at all the shelves that were stacked with numerous boxes, some opened, some not. The first thing he noticed were the different bottles of lube arranged on one shelf at eye-level. Several different brands, tastes, smells. His gaze wandered to the next shelf. And to the next. And the next. And with every shelf his jaw seemed to drop a little more. 

Dildos. Vibrators. Plugs. Nipple-clamps. Fleshlights. Dolls. All in various sizes, colors and forms. He reached for one plug that rested in an open box and looked at it. Silver, heavy, shining. It was one of the few items already unpacked and his brain delievered him – not very helpfully – several pictures how the plug could have been used. 

“Oh my, Mr Reese,” Harold mumbled to himself, “I wonder who you think of when using this.”

“Who said I think of someone at all?” A warm breath ghosted over Harold's ear and he jerked back, almost falling backwards into the closet. 

John stood only a few inches behind him, smiling at him with a strange mixture of embarrassment and hope. He reached for him and steadied him. “I hope I didn't scare you too much, Finch.” 

Harold tried to compose himself again, recognizing too late that he still had the plug in his hand. He held it up with a questioning look. John simply shrugged. 

“Stake-outs can be long and boring, Finch.”

Harold felt cold and hot and the same time. “You're telling me you wore this during a stake-out?”

“No, Finch,” with a smile John plucked the item from Harold's unresisting grip, “I *ordered* this during a stake-out. I *wore* it afterwards at home. As kind of a reward for a job well-done.” He glanced at the plug with a fond expression. “This is one of my favorites.” Then he reached for the box Harold had taken it out of and took a velvet bag out. “Hm, must have forgotten to put it back properly the last time.”

Harold awkwardly stepped back a bit to give John the space to put the dark-red bag back in its place. “Why are there so many boxes unpacked?” he finally asked when his curiosity won out once more. When John turned around to look at him, he wished for a moment he wouldn't have asked. The look on the younger man's face was … hard to read. It looked almost emotionless and yet … there was some kind of longing deeply hidden in his dark blue eyes.

When he answered, it was barely audible. “Some of these items are more fun when you have a partner.”

“A partner,” Harold repeated a little dumbfounded. Then he felt something uncurl in his stomach and smiled. “Which items for example?”

John stared at him, unblinking. “What?” His voice seemed to drop an octave, got even huskier and Harold imagined that this had to be the way he sounded just before he was about to come. Harold straightened up a bit and repeated, “Which items are more fun when you have a partner, Mr Reese?”

“Are you sure, Mr Finch?” John whispered, “Are you really sure you wanna know? Want to know the things you could discover about me?”

Harold nodded and he was convinced that he had seldom be more sure in his life. John never once broke eye-contact with Harold as he reached for a bigger box which rested on one of the lower shelves. Still holding his gaze, he handed it to Harold. Wordlessly. Equally as silent, Harold took the box, sensing that this moment was important. “It's going to be alright, Mr Reese,” he said quietly, “I promise.” Although right at the moment he didn't know what he promised and if everything *would* be alright. 

But it seemed to be the right thing to say. John took a deep breath, held it for a moment and released it again slowly. Then he nodded and lowered his gaze. 

Harold limped over to the bed and put the box down. Carefully, he peeked inside and gasped slightly. With a murmured, “Oh my, Mr Reese,” he opened the box fully. 

Inside was more or less a BDSM Master dream. Black leather cuffs – smaller ones for the wrists, bigger ones for the ankles, Harold assumed – with silver D-rings, a black leather collar, a sturdy looking leash, several chains to attach it all and a cat o'nine tails with soft-looking, suede strings. Everything was still in its original packagings. He turned around to look at John. In his mind he already saw John kneeling on the floor with all the leather adorning his body. Black leather on his pale skin, lightly tanned only where the sun could reach it. 

'We're both alike, John. We're better at following orders than at giving them.' Snow's words came back to him and echoed in his head. 

“Is this what you want, Mr Reese?” His voice was quiet. Earnest. He took a step closer to John, put his finger under his chin and lifted his head so he could look him into the eyes. “Is this what you need?” he rephrased his question. 

“I thought about it, Finch. Back in my old life only occasionally. But ever since you found me, I can't seem to get it out of my head.”

Harold nodded. He could relate to that. John must have been feeling lost after loosing Jessica and his job. Lost and helpless. Alone. Drifting from day to day without anyone giving him a purpose. Without anyone giving his life structure. Then Harold had literally found him, and had given him all of that. He took a deep breath. He knew what to do now. He closed the box, stepped back and said, “We will save this for later. For now, show me your favorite toy, Mr Reese!”

It wasn't phrased as a question or even as a suggestion. It was an order and as such, John obeyed on instinct. He turned back into the closet and reached for the plug he had just put away. Harold smiled at the eagerness John showed. “Do you need anything else when you use it?”

“Yes,” John growled, “lube.”

“So go get it. Then undress and get down on the bed.”

It took John less than three minutes to lie naked on the bed. Harold sat down next to him so he faced him, reached out and touched him. Finally. For the first time. John's skin twitched under his fingertips. “We have to talk about a lot of things, Mr Reese,” he murmured, flattened his hand and caressed his chest. “Have to talk about safewords,” a soft groan from John, “about boundaries,“ a gasp, “about limits.” Fascinated, he watched the shiver run over the younger man's skin. 

“But tonight we should start slow.”

An almost desperate sound tore itself from John's throat. “Finch, please.” With a pleased smile, Harold noted that John, although he was hard, didn't touch himself. Didn't even try to. “I want you to show me how you use this toy.” He picked the plug up. “Show me how you prepare yourself.”

John moaned deeply. “Finch, you kill me.” 

Harold awkwardly leaned over and kissed John gently. “No, I won't, Mr Reese. I will help you to unwind after a rough case. And I will help you to feel good.”

~*~

Feel good. God, John had the feeling that he was coming apart at the seams. He was laying naked on his bed with a still completely clothed Harold Finch sitting next to him. It was strangely erotic. And Harold wanted him to take the plug he still held up and insert it into his ass. He knew how it felt. Knew that it would burn if he went to fast. Knew that sometimes he liked, no, needed the burn, the pain. Knew that Harold wouldn't allow that. Not this time. Not tonight. Maybe later. 

“What … what do you want me to do, Finch?” 

Harold reached for the lube and handed it to him. “Prepare yourself,” he murmured, “but do it slowly. I want to enjoy the view.”

John swallowed then he reached for the lube, opened it and put some on his fingers. He pulled one foot up and began to circle his hole with one finger. With a sigh he closed his eyes. God, it felt good. Even moreso, knowing that Harold was sitting next to him, watching him closely. “Finch,” he groaned and reached out blindly with his free hand. Strong, warm fingers caught his hand and he gripped it tightly. “Harold,” he moaned when one finger slipped in. Warm, wet heat surrounded his finger and instinctivly he began to feel for his prostate. One finger slid easily in and out, and in, and … ah yes, there it was. He let out a deep moan and panted. When he wanted to add a second finger, his hand was suddenly encircled at the wrist and held back. 

“Slow,” Harold whispered, his eyes fixated on the place where his finger disappeared into his body. “I can't,” John gasped, “please, Finch … Harold … please. I need more.”

Harold tightened the hold on his wrist briefly, then he nodded. “All right, John. But you'll need more lube.”

John almost laughed because to him it felt as if his ass and his finger were already drenched in lube. He barely held back a cry when he felt the cool liquid being squeezed on his skin. 

“That should be sufficient,” he heard Harold's voice. Two fingers slipped in just as easily and John could have sworn that at this moment and with this amount of lube, three or even four fingers wouldn't have been a problem. 

“Slow, Mr Reese,” a voice whispered close to his ear. He turned his head and saw that Harold had bowed down, and was watching his face with rapt fascination. He was so near now that John could smell him. Could kiss him if he wanted to. And he wanted. Oh god, he wanted. But he didn't dare. Not yet. Harold was in control here and he had to make the first step. He moved a bit closer though, causing Harold to sit up again, so he could rest his head on the older man's thigh. He took a deep breath, smelled the unique scent that was so typical for Harold Finch. He sighed happily when he felt a hand run through his hair. 

“Finch,” he murmured mindlessly, “please, I need more.”

“Alright, John,” came the reply almost instantly, and John smiled when he noticed that the older man sounded slightly breathless now, “take a third finger.”

It felt heavenly, the stretch made easy and painless through the lube, and he wished for the plug now. Wanted to feel the cool metal sink into him. “The plug, Mr Reese,” he heard through the fog of his lust, “now!” 

The toy was pressed into his free hand and without thinking, he slid it between his legs and in. 

In. 

He cried out when the biggest part of the plug stretched him open before it disappeared into his ass and only the flared base rested tight against his skin. He panted and tried desperately not to come when the plug pushed against his prostate. 

“Do you want to come, Mr Reese?” Harold's voice reached his ear and he nodded, unable to speak. Again the hand in his hair, stroking him, petting him like a giant cat. “You look so lovely, Mr Reese.” And John almost forgot the burning need to come like a teenager. He moved up to shove himself against Harold and cried out once more when the movement caused the plug to press mercilessly against his happy spot. 

“Finch, Harold, Sir, please … I need to come,” he whined, not caring how he sounded. “Please, let me come. Touch me or let me touch myself, Mr Finch, please.”

“Then come, Mr Reese,” Harold murmured, closed his hand around John's cock and the younger man came so hard that he almost blacked out. Through his haze he heard murmured words of 'good boy', 'so good for me' and 'so obedient'. He pressed his face against Harold's leg and enjoyed his afterglow, loving the feeling of the plug in his ass, of the warm fabric under his cheek and the sweet lassitude he felt in his bones after this climax. 

It took him a few minutes to realize that Harold still petted him, that there were still fingers running through his hair, gently scraping his scalp. And he purred. 

~*~

The noise surprised him, and Harold looked down at the satisfied man whose head rested peacefully on his thigh. Just a few inches away from where Harold was still painfully aroused in his trousers. He took a deep breath and tried to will his erection away. Hopefully before John would notice. 

He moved slightly to relieve the pressure from his hard-on. John shuffled a bit closer and opened his eyes. And Harold drew in a sharp breath when John's nose almost touched his cock. 

“Finch,” the younger man mumured and Harold moaned when the warm breath ghosted across the fabric. “Finch, let me.” He propped himself up on one elbow and reached slowly for the beltbuckle to open it. “Please, let me help you.” He pushed the button through the hole and began to lower the zipper. “Let me help you relieve some of the pressure. Finch, please. Can I?”

His fingertips were just millimetres away from Harold's silken boxers, and for a moment the time seemed to stand still as their eyes met. Harold's heart beat loudly in his ears and finally he nodded. 

With an almost grateful little smile, John gently shoved the boxers down so Harold's cock sprang free and just seconds later Harold groaned as John swallowed his cock in one go to the root. Oh damn, he thought, this was definitely not the first time John Reese did this. His hands found their way in the younger man's hair on their own accord and without thinking he pushed up. Up into the heat and the suction and everything that was *John*. He ignored the blooming pain in his hip, wanted, no, *needed* the release that was just within his reach. Up and up and up and … two strong hands suddenly stopped his motions. He glanced down his body and looked into John's blue eyes. “Don't hurt yourself, Mr Finch,” he mumbled and reached with one of his hands for Harold's wrist. “You want me deeper, just push me down.” He made a slow pushing motion, slid deeper on his cock and Harold had to count backwards from ten in greek to not come instantly. 

Then he gripped a little tighter and John moaned wantonly around his cock, sucked him in deeper, made him see stars. “Mr Reese,” he warned after a few more moments, “if you don't … if you're not … oh my, yes, that's … that's good … that's … oh God … I'm coming, Mr Reese, you really should ...”

He tried to pull John's head up, tried to pull him away but John only seemed to cling tighter to him instead, and when he sucked so hard that his cheeks hollowed out, Harold came with a harsh groan, his eyes tightly shut. Lights exploded behind his eyes and he got the feeling as if his climax would never end. When he slowly came to again, he noticed that his hands were tightly wrapped around the younger man's head and that he still had John's face pressed into his groin. But to his surprise, John seemed to be quite content to be where he was. He breathed slowly and his muscles were relaxed. Harold loosened his grip and resumed his gentle stroking from before, smiling when John suckled lazily on his cock that rested still in his mouth. Suddenly a thought occured to him. He tapped John's shoulder gently. 

“Do you know that we didn't even kiss properly?”

John looked up, his dark blue eyes warm. Then he released Harold's cock and mumbled, “But you did kiss me, Finch.” He sounded slightly irritated. 

Harold smiled. “I said properly, Mr Reese,” he answered, and watched as the younger man sat up until they were at eye-level. 

Before John could ask what he considered 'properly', Harold put a hand on his neck and pulled him in. When their mouths met for a second time that night, Harold didn't hesitate to dominate the kiss immediately. And with satisfaction he felt the other man practically melt against him. Harold faintly tasted himself in the kiss and it was so erotic that he moaned softly. He pulled the younger man even closer and deepened the kiss. God, he wanted to push John down, wanted to devour him, wanted to hold him down, feast on him, love him, dominate him and once more he hated his weak body which made it impossible for him to do as he desired. 

Kissing the younger man was addictive, he realized. Gently, he stroked with his hand over John's skin, over his flanks down to his ass. Searching and finding the bottom of the plug, he moved the toy a bit and smiled when John broke the kiss with a deep moan. “God, Finch,” he panted, pressing their foreheads together. “Please say you stay the night, Finch,” he added. Moving back a bit, he gazed deeply into the other man's eyes. Harold swallowed when he saw the emotions that were clearly visible in those depths. He played a little more with the plug while he thought about it, enjoying the gasps and moans he received from the man in his arms. 

“Bear is already here, so I think that can be arranged, Mr Reese,” he murmured finally, “but tell me, do you want this,” he pulled the plug out a bit and pushed it in again, “to remain where it is? Or do you want me to remove it?”

“Can I keep it in, please?”

Harold gazed at him for a long moment then he smiled and gave John a quick kiss. “All right. Now go, get ready for bed. I'll lock everything up and join you.”

It took them about fifteen minutes to finish everything and when Harold had found a place in John's bed that was comfortable for him, he wasn't too surprised when it took John about half a second to cling to him like a magnet. Smiling, Harold closed his arms around the younger man's shoulders and closed his eyes.

**Author's Note:**

> The song for this story was popping into my mind the second I got the story from my beta [counselor69](https://archiveofourown.org/users/counselor69) back. I told her about it and she agreed that it fitted perfectly. Here are the lyrics. 
> 
> "I'm Your Man" by Leonard Cohen
> 
> If you want a lover  
> I'll do anything you ask me to  
> And if you want another kind of love  
> I'll wear a mask for you  
> If you want a partner  
> Take my hand  
> Or if you want to strike me down in anger  
> Here I stand  
> I'm your man  
> If you want a boxer  
> I will step into the ring for you  
> And if you want a doctor  
> I'll examine every inch of you  
> If you want a driver  
> Climb inside  
> Or if you want to take me for a ride  
> You know you can  
> I'm your man
> 
> Ah, the moon's too bright  
> The chain's too tight  
> The beast won't go to sleep  
> I've been running through these promises to you  
> That I made and I could not keep  
> Ah but a man never got a woman back  
> Not by begging on his knees  
> Or I'd crawl to you baby  
> And I'd fall at your feet  
> And I'd howl at your beauty  
> Like a dog in heat  
> And I'd claw at your heart  
> And I'd tear at your sheet  
> I'd say please, please  
> I'm your man
> 
> And if you've got to sleep  
> A moment on the road  
> I will steer for you  
> And if you want to work the street alone  
> I'll disappear for you  
> If you want a father for your child  
> Or only want to walk with me a while  
> Across the sand  
> I'm your man
> 
> If you want a lover  
> I'll do anything you ask me to  
> And if you want another kind of love  
> I'll wear a mask for you


End file.
